The year is 40,000. After peaceful floating in zero-gravity, astronaut Barbarella lands on the frozen planet Lythion and sets out to find renowned scientist Durand Durand in the City of Night, Sogo, where a new sin is invented every hour. There, she encounters such objects as the Excessive Machine, a genuine sex organ on which an expert artist of the keyboard, in this case, Durand Durand himself, can drive a victim to death by pleasure, a lesbian queen who can make her fantasies take form in her Chamber of Dreams, and a group of ladies smoking a giant hookah which dispenses Essence of Man through a poor victim struggling in its glass globe. You can not help but be impressed by the special effects crew and the various ways that were found to tear off what minimal clothes our heroine seemed to possess.Written by
The film was given the R16 rating in New Zealand. See more »
When Barbarella first has to go down for a crash landing, she puts her right arm up to her head. In the next shot her left arm is up to her head. See more »
Stand by for a message from Dianthus, President of Earth and Rotating Premier of the Sun System.
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In the opening credits, the letters in the words move around in an attempt to obscure Barbarella's nudity. See more »
The version now on video in Australia is of the Laser Disc version which has a more "nude" opening credit scene. The difference in the credits occurs when 'David Hemmings' credit appears, from then on the floating titles reveal more of Jane Fonda than the original version and video did. See more »
If you're looking for a quality science fantasy experience, you will probably be disappointed in BARBARELLA, which tells a typical story of an intergallactic astronaught who is sent on a mission to save a brilliant scientist from the clutches of an evil force that threatens to destroy the universe.
On her quest she finds daunting foes, unexpected comrades and twists and turns like any good superhero story should have. The only problem is that her world is made up of Christmas lights, cellophane and balsa wood, and it's all held together with scotch tape.
However what some might consider schlock entertainment, I saw it as pure camp all the way, with some hysterical situations and outrageous costumes draped over not-so-difficult-to-look-at actors (especially our babe-o-naught Ms. Fonda), and to top off the cake we have an icing of infectious music by comedic composer Charles Fox (9 to 5, Foul Play) and singer/songwriter Bob Crewe.
This is pure candy all the way so don't expect any nutrition here, but if you let it happen instead of looking for more, you may find yourself inspired to watch it again and again, when you don't feel like using any brain cells in this dimension.
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